


A Change of Pace

by Kyriptid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriptid/pseuds/Kyriptid
Summary: Hubert comes home from work to find Linhardt's sleep schedule to have changed.
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	A Change of Pace

**Author's Note:**

> I just had a Need for Linbert fluff so Here You Go. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, and I truly hope you enjoy reading it just as much!
> 
> STAN BEAGLE BOYS!!!

_ Click.  _

Hubert brushed his hand across the door as he closed it, straining his ears for any indication on what his partner was doing. He had just arrived home from work and the hour was late, but not late for his husband. In fact, at this time, he half expected Linhardt to be preparing for his own "day" of work. He caught the sound of a calm voice droning on from the living room… The TV must be on, he noted.  _ How It's Made _ .

His coat was folded neatly onto the hanger hung by the door, his shoes left at the mat, and at once he was venturing into their shared home to drop off his briefcase in his study.

He did not make it that far.

The first thing he noticed while passing through the living room was the socked foot poking up from over the couch, which was more than enough to divert his attention.

_ He did not… _

Oh, but he did. Hubert circled around said couch to take in the ever surprising and yet all-too endearing sight of Linhardt finding a new way to destroy his spine while sleeping. He had one leg dug under the far couch cushion, the other hiked over the back of the couch,  _ somehow _ . In some form of likely drowsy frustration, Linhardt had his head resting on the  _ coffee table  _ of all things. Which... had only been pulled over  _ just enough _ for the corner to support him. Not to mention one arm cascading down onto the floor and the other folded over his eyes to block out the overhead light. This  _ had  _ to be premeditated.

"Honestly…." Hubert said this to himself as he placed his briefcase on the opposite end of the coffee table. Linhardt always complained about his joints and would pop them every chance he got. Upon waking up, after his work, after meals, before  _ and  _ after bathing... It was as though he had a mental cooldown timer for each one, and he kept tabs near religiously on when he would next be able to force out a crack. Hubert never understood full-body joint popping, though he would do so for his hands when it was necessary. Never for… _ sport _ .

Still. He did not hold it against Linhardt. Whining aside, Hubert still finds the harmless self-contradiction endearing. 

He knelt down near where the other's body was hanging between the couch and table and made careful work of slipping his hands under his husband's shoulder and waist. Once his grip was secure, he stood up with his legs and shifted Linhardt better into his arms. He didn't even stir. Of course he didn't.

As Hubert made his way around the couch again and towards the hall leading to their bedroom, he caught himself with a small smile on his lips as he gazed at the placid visage of his lover. Even with some hair stuck to his cheek from a long dried smear of drool, Linhardt had no trouble captivating his attention. Well, not so much so that he wouldn't notice the doorway in front of him and adjust his hold to prevent the other's head from getting bonked, of course. 

He had just quietly shut the door behind him with his heel and made his way to the bedside when he noticed that the bed was still made. Hubert is the only one that bothers making their bed upon waking up, which means Linhardt had truly not come to bed at all for the entire day. Their sleeping schedules were more or less reversed, as Linhardt worked at night and Hubert during the day, but it was unusual for Linhardt to not take the bed while Hubert was off at work in the daytime.

He was snapped from his thoughts by a quiet hum by his chin, and he redirected his gaze down to his husband, where he was met with drowsy blue eyes.

"Good morning."

Between his gentle chuckles and the motion of settling a knee onto the mattress, Hubert found the opportunity to press a kiss to Linhardt's forehead.

"Good morning, dear. I apologize for waking you."

"Don't bother," His retort was paused by a yawn, "mm, I like waking up in your arms."

They have been married almost a year now, and Hubert still is not used to the acrobatics his heart partakes in when his partner speaks so plainly about his affections. It's so  _ Linhardt  _ of him, and yet Hubert is always blindsided by it. Objectively, his comment makes sense. They scarcely sleep at the same time outside of naps, so actually waking up with one another is unfortunately a rarity. It just strikes a different chord when Linhardt says it, eyes all droopy and cheek pressed into Hubert's shoulder like that.

"To hear you say you enjoy waking up at all is an honor on its own." 

His partner scoffs from the tease as he is lowered down into bed, a sleepy smile overtaking his face. "Drama queen. I'm not planning on staying awake."

This brought a hint of shock to Hubert's face. Sure, it was now the weekend, and they both had tomorrow off, but it was rare Linhardt would mess with his sleeping schedule for just a single day's sake. His surprise must have been evident, (or is Linhardt just that good at reading him?) as he felt loving fingers brush his bangs out of his eye.

"It was already dark out when I fell asleep, dear. I stayed awake all day for you."

_ Oh, Linhardt… _

"Lin…"

How he managed to deserve someone as thoughtful as Linhardt, Hubert will never be able to understand. Still, he pulled himself from his pause and pushed off the mattress to get changed into sleepwear. He listened to the telltale sounds of Linhardt pulling apart his careful work of making the bed as he slipped on some cotton pants and a blouse. How long has it been since they've slept a full night together in bed? He vaguely recalls the evening following Caspar's birthday party, but neither of them really had a chance to savor it. And it is now winter. How time flies, unfortunately…

"Hube?"

Hubert turned at the call, only realising he had dived into his thoughts upon seeing the slight concern on his husband's face. "Everything at work go alright?" Linhardt had already been nestled under the covers, but was now propped up on his elbow to address him. 

"Yes. Apologies, I was merely trying to recount the last opportunity we had to spend the night together." On his way around the bedside, he brushed his fingers through Linhardt's bangs, earning a pleased hum from his lover. It was amusingly almost instant; Hubert pulled the covers up and got himself settled just in time for Linhardt to wiggle over and latch onto his torso. So much for a king sized bed…

"I think about that too, sometimes."

"Hm?" Hubert passed his hand through Linhardt's locks, only halfway paying attention to the conversation.

"How we don't get to sleep together much."

Ah. Right. That. ".... It is a pity, is all. But it is nothing we haven't adapted to."

With their legs tangled like this, Hubert could feel the sleep-warmth still radiating from his spouse. Hubert may be larger in general, but it was always Linhardt generating the warmth between them. He never gets enough time to relish that.

"Adaptation does not equate satisfaction." Linhardt's voice took an unexpectedly soft tone- near sorrowful, "I miss you, dear." And now he was staring up at him with those big doe eyes of his, his perpetually silky lips pulled into a pout.

"What is it you are implying we do? Forcibly insert more hours into the day?" It's hard to be legitimately frustrated with Linhardt's whining when he looks exactly like a puppy begging for a treat. Damn him and his ethereal beauty.

"No…. I suppose this is just my way of telling you I am bored of being a night owl." With that, the pout was gone, as was his partner's face, as it is now nuzzled quite firmly into Hubert's chest. He cannot help but chuckle at the dismissive revelation.

"You've been a night owl all of your life, dear. Why the sudden change?"

Linhardt shrugged. "Got bored of it, and I miss you, so I see no point in continuing it."

Hubert made a mental note to get the real answer out of him later, but for now, he settled on coating the top of his husband's head with slow, gentle kisses.

"Also, TV programming is far less atrocious in the daytime."

Of course. Hubert outwardly laughed at that, albeit softly.  _ Of course  _ Linhardt would say that. Not even his beloved green-haired lover was immune to catching some silly giggles. Hubert  _ lives  _ for these moments. The warmth in and around his chest, the full face smile, the faint tightness in his throat. Never in his young adult life would he ever have imagined having this with someone, but he would be damned to ever give it up. He could feel the affection in the tightness of Linhardt's finger pads in his shirt, the close contact of their chests together, the nose huffing bursts of mirthful snickers into his collarbone. 

The day's weariness from work felt as if it was melting straight off of his bones with every passing second he basked in the gentle moonlight that his husband perpetually emanated. He may have been trained all of his life to be nothing but a shadow, to follow and obey a power preordained for him; and he may have despised every second, and fought with every inch of his being to tear himself from those gloomy mindsets- but if being the endless darkness encompassing his Moon means he is allowed to soak in those calming rays for every remaining moment of his life...he would not mind remaining a shadow. Not in the slightest. He knows Linhardt always protests the idea, and decides on his own that a good hour-long lecture is needed to state why Hubert is  _ "...not the darkness. You're as pale as a sheet of paper."  _ But even that seems to always solidify the metaphor in his head. 

Why else would Linhardt focus so intently on something and put so much work into thinking about it if it was not important to him? If Hubert just happened to be the center of those thoughts, all the better.

He finds himself, once again, staring down into half-lidded blue irises upon surfacing from his thoughts.

"I love you, Lin." The words had left his tongue before he even thought of them, but it felt right. With Linhardt, it always feels right.

"I love you too, Hube." And it never feels more right than when he hears those words spoken back to him. Words that took months to comprehend on a basic level, words that have eventually aided in countless other displays of affection to break through that damned barrier his parents had worked so hard to build around him. Linhardt makes it look easy. Maybe it is.

Hubert's eyes drift close as their lips meet for some time. Nothing urgent, nor chaste; the happy medium they seemed to always find so cozily between them. His hand found a rhythm in smoothing loving circles into Linhardt's back through the covers, and in turn his lover rewarded him with happy, quiet little noises against his lips.

As the hour grew later and their breathing slowed, Hubert watched with adoring content as Linhardt's eyes fluttered closed one last time on the pillow next to his head. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, tenderly.

_ I wonder if this will become a common occurrence now… _

Hubert stifled a yawn, his own eyes drooping shut against his will. As much as he wanted to stay awake and lovingly admire his beloved husband, the day had been long, and the night would not offer the same. He let the steady music of Linhardt's breathing lull him close to the edge.

_ I surely hope it will. _


End file.
